Least Read Observational Poems
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poetry about life, society and the natural world
Find an undiscovered masterpiece in the DU Poetry least read poems.
yelluw_always
Poem Published
30th Apr 2019 6:31am
30th Apr 2019 6:31am
Lakeside 29/30
And the wind soughing in the trees
Catches in their ears, is sent out
In scouting parties of sensation down their spines.
If you say it became language or it was nothing,
Who touched whom?
In what hurtle of starlight?
Poor language, poor theory
Of language. - Robert Hass
I take out the box, it could be any kind-
a shoebox or a treasure chest, or a room-
and currently the lid is closed. I’m not
here to talk about the cat,
if it’s dead or present. Here I am in life,
opening it and what do you know
but a...
Catches in their ears, is sent out
In scouting parties of sensation down their spines.
If you say it became language or it was nothing,
Who touched whom?
In what hurtle of starlight?
Poor language, poor theory
Of language. - Robert Hass
I take out the box, it could be any kind-
a shoebox or a treasure chest, or a room-
and currently the lid is closed. I’m not
here to talk about the cat,
if it’s dead or present. Here I am in life,
opening it and what do you know
but a...
#identity
#NaPoWriMo2019
9 reads
2 Comments
gardenlover
Poem Published
29th Mar 2020 10:44am
29th Mar 2020 10:44am
Superstitions in Limericks
What lovely day is it today
Friday thirteenth I hear you say
Bad luck for some
Keep out of the sun
And wait until it is Saturday
I once found an old horse shoe
Hung it on the wall, as you do
The luck escaped
Because I had draped
It open side down and askew
Be careful with that mirror
To break it will bring horror
Shattered and broken
Be more than heartbroken
Your luck will shrink to a glimmer
When you sneeze you may be blessed
Your evil spirits have regressed
Spread...
Friday thirteenth I hear you say
Bad luck for some
Keep out of the sun
And wait until it is Saturday
I once found an old horse shoe
Hung it on the wall, as you do
The luck escaped
Because I had draped
It open side down and askew
Be careful with that mirror
To break it will bring horror
Shattered and broken
Be more than heartbroken
Your luck will shrink to a glimmer
When you sneeze you may be blessed
Your evil spirits have regressed
Spread...
#TruthOfLife
#luck
10 reads
0 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
23rd Apr 2019 5:05am
23rd Apr 2019 5:05am
Lakeside 21/30
It is a fact, a small fact. A known one
among our kind. Among the singed.
Among the moths of fringes and in their
fringes is this fact burnt from that what
we misunderstand as the moon in the kitchen.
It is a joyous metaphor of the night-blues.
There we edge drawers of butchers
and carvers. There we prosody
with the mashers and the strainers.
The boiling point and the preservatives,
the thermostat that will sink in a side.
All those are emotions ready at hand
for lamentations of...
among our kind. Among the singed.
Among the moths of fringes and in their
fringes is this fact burnt from that what
we misunderstand as the moon in the kitchen.
It is a joyous metaphor of the night-blues.
There we edge drawers of butchers
and carvers. There we prosody
with the mashers and the strainers.
The boiling point and the preservatives,
the thermostat that will sink in a side.
All those are emotions ready at hand
for lamentations of...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
11 reads
5 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
23rd Apr 2019 5:05am
23rd Apr 2019 5:05am
Lakeside 22/30
We say who we were right then.
Tell me, were you made to uncurl
your proboscis and bend the antennae
down as the television turns into dirty snow.
We disturb each other’s entry-ways
with tell me more, tell me more about the world
outside, I’ve just came from this place,
this cemented state,
something grey and narrow and it wasn’t the sky,
I barely made it out. The subject always
leaves the kitchen lights on with the grace
of a million moons. Somehow, we flew there
without science. Once upon a hot night,
I...
Tell me, were you made to uncurl
your proboscis and bend the antennae
down as the television turns into dirty snow.
We disturb each other’s entry-ways
with tell me more, tell me more about the world
outside, I’ve just came from this place,
this cemented state,
something grey and narrow and it wasn’t the sky,
I barely made it out. The subject always
leaves the kitchen lights on with the grace
of a million moons. Somehow, we flew there
without science. Once upon a hot night,
I...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
11 reads
2 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
11th Apr 2019 8:01am
11th Apr 2019 8:01am
Lakeside 10/30
The windmills fan their faces in cool joy.
Cartwheels walk the sky and feel with toes.
Listen, on the tippy toes are cartwheeling clouds.
Elephants cause earthquakes as they run.
Earthquakes make them run to higher ground.
Like children going out on a limb, higher.
Higher, out on a limb the children drop stones
into their faces, they see themselves as grass small.
They see themselves as grass, small with faces of dew.
Town-criers for the wind, for news of a bough.
...
Cartwheels walk the sky and feel with toes.
Listen, on the tippy toes are cartwheeling clouds.
Elephants cause earthquakes as they run.
Earthquakes make them run to higher ground.
Like children going out on a limb, higher.
Higher, out on a limb the children drop stones
into their faces, they see themselves as grass small.
They see themselves as grass, small with faces of dew.
Town-criers for the wind, for news of a bough.
...
#identity
#nature
#NaPoWriMo2019
13 reads
3 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
21st Apr 2019 7:14am
21st Apr 2019 7:14am
Lakeside 18/30
The freeze retreats
like crumpled paper,
the birds skid in,
tossing the ozone
of their wings. They
are signing home
in the sounds of our ghost
cinema. The music is
in ripples as we skip
flat, trying to feel it
through our hair, spines,
and calves. We have
emptied so that it echoes.
With our claws we rake the air
as rain, brush our hair,
toss a salad, scratch
our spines, cramp
our calves, and grow
the hay. We say theory
of mind and I see
what you’re saying
from the...
like crumpled paper,
the birds skid in,
tossing the ozone
of their wings. They
are signing home
in the sounds of our ghost
cinema. The music is
in ripples as we skip
flat, trying to feel it
through our hair, spines,
and calves. We have
emptied so that it echoes.
With our claws we rake the air
as rain, brush our hair,
toss a salad, scratch
our spines, cramp
our calves, and grow
the hay. We say theory
of mind and I see
what you’re saying
from the...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
13 reads
5 Comments
Academic
Poem Published
29th Mar 2020 12:31pm
29th Mar 2020 12:31pm
A most worthy, yet quite modest Barbadian Demi-goddess!
By Stanley Collymore
Hail to the excellent Prime Minister of Barbados, the Right
Honourable Mia Amor Mottley, QC, MP and her clever
and totally altruistic team of quite brilliant, similarly
well-educated Cabinet, and other Government
Ministers, who commendably and in the
good-natured spirit, typical of us proud and helpful
Barbadians, allowed some thirty four in total
number authentic Trinidadian nations,
unscrupulously turned away by the
Port-of-Spain regime prohibiting
them all from re-entering their
very own country;...
Hail to the excellent Prime Minister of Barbados, the Right
Honourable Mia Amor Mottley, QC, MP and her clever
and totally altruistic team of quite brilliant, similarly
well-educated Cabinet, and other Government
Ministers, who commendably and in the
good-natured spirit, typical of us proud and helpful
Barbadians, allowed some thirty four in total
number authentic Trinidadian nations,
unscrupulously turned away by the
Port-of-Spain regime prohibiting
them all from re-entering their
very own country;...
#admiration
13 reads
0 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
31st Jan 2019 00:50am
31st Jan 2019 00:50am
North South East West
misgivings on the direction
society is kited
during the wind-up
of their sleeping gaze
alarmed hermit
tosses torn blades
of a spinning rose into
a nor so easy we
maxed tense overshot
the trajectories
of an impact likely to prove
the accusations of history
You are not here to witness
gas following its nature
hot air ballooning past
sense of a backwards future
You told them I am a basket case
but I pilot a rage of wicker
...
society is kited
during the wind-up
of their sleeping gaze
alarmed hermit
tosses torn blades
of a spinning rose into
a nor so easy we
maxed tense overshot
the trajectories
of an impact likely to prove
the accusations of history
You are not here to witness
gas following its nature
hot air ballooning past
sense of a backwards future
You told them I am a basket case
but I pilot a rage of wicker
...
#politics
#ignorance
14 reads
2 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
9th Apr 2019 7:42am
9th Apr 2019 7:42am
Lakeside 8/30
Let us unscrew all the bulbs, let us see
what really happens at night, what is this
wildness of roads bordering this lake.
Their lines of divide, cars going
in the opposite directions. In sign,
we would say this in a way
that indicates misunderstandings,
two fingers passing by in the night swiftly
ends in a question mark of face.
Therein lies the dichotomy
of cities, bodies have machinated
towards sound, matching the sonic
boom with their twin beams. I look
at the moon and cannot see behind,
who are...
what really happens at night, what is this
wildness of roads bordering this lake.
Their lines of divide, cars going
in the opposite directions. In sign,
we would say this in a way
that indicates misunderstandings,
two fingers passing by in the night swiftly
ends in a question mark of face.
Therein lies the dichotomy
of cities, bodies have machinated
towards sound, matching the sonic
boom with their twin beams. I look
at the moon and cannot see behind,
who are...
#identity
#nature
#surreal #NaPoWriMo2019
#surreal #NaPoWriMo2019
14 reads
2 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
15th Apr 2019 6:38am
15th Apr 2019 6:38am
Lakeside 14/30
All the bowl-shaped
things, my hands, can make
but can’t hold
this rain,
cave flower crescent
smoked pipe skull
gourd stomach bucket
body cloud clam crater
the form changes
without context, like the way a stranger
comes in the room and begins
asking for directions to who knows what is this
content is
as the insides
are filled
of words, in a rush
even as I swish them...
things, my hands, can make
but can’t hold
this rain,
cave flower crescent
smoked pipe skull
gourd stomach bucket
body cloud clam crater
the form changes
without context, like the way a stranger
comes in the room and begins
asking for directions to who knows what is this
content is
as the insides
are filled
of words, in a rush
even as I swish them...
#identity
#nature
#NaPoWriMo2019
14 reads
2 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
20th Apr 2019 7:50am
20th Apr 2019 7:50am
Lakeside 17/30
In this moment
the wooly foam
of moving words
are what lights
our way to each other
in a limbo
of limbs.
Upon the stillness
a row of us
stumble as dominos
with numbers
denoting our fronts
and compress the snow.
Under the moon
we pack our
elbow knees knuckles
with our names
as muscle memory
paired with that
which can bend
an opening.
What our body
forgets friends
will return
in the cumulative
history of their bodies.
...
the wooly foam
of moving words
are what lights
our way to each other
in a limbo
of limbs.
Upon the stillness
a row of us
stumble as dominos
with numbers
denoting our fronts
and compress the snow.
Under the moon
we pack our
elbow knees knuckles
with our names
as muscle memory
paired with that
which can bend
an opening.
What our body
forgets friends
will return
in the cumulative
history of their bodies.
...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
14 reads
4 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
27th Apr 2019 7:20am
27th Apr 2019 7:20am
Lakeside 26/30
A different kind of ending
is happening in the underbrush
you might see it as a kind of matted
with its braids and twisted
bodies making do with space though it appears a mess
a real pollack moment of turning a head
everything appears fast
appears indiscernible and indescribable and streamed
of starved language
pretty much it’s a whirligig or a thingamabob
that all needs to be weed-whacked
to most
flattening what exists in a layer between control and worldview
mowers and machetes, landscapers...
is happening in the underbrush
you might see it as a kind of matted
with its braids and twisted
bodies making do with space though it appears a mess
a real pollack moment of turning a head
everything appears fast
appears indiscernible and indescribable and streamed
of starved language
pretty much it’s a whirligig or a thingamabob
that all needs to be weed-whacked
to most
flattening what exists in a layer between control and worldview
mowers and machetes, landscapers...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
14 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Least Read Poems about Life, Society and the World
